I’m listening to Taake. I’m feeling reflective, as I usually am after seeing my psychologist. “The past is meant to be learned from, not lived in”. Great quote I read recently, but my apologies to the author as I cannot remember where. The daily struggle is to be present and engaged. At times that becomes difficult when the past decides to come back. One of my problems is that I use past experiences to predict future outcomes. Sounds reasonable except when I convince myself my family is going to die if we walk out the front door. I start picturing my family in place of the dead. Despite quite favourable odds going out seems like an unnecessary gamble. Deep breath.

I went to a movie with my wife and oldest son last night. I was acutely aware that my back was to other people. Not too many as we sat near the back of the theatre, but even one can be enough. There were plenty in front of us. I had my stone to fidget with, and later on the empty ziploc bag from the contraband candy my wife smuggled in. The movie was fucking loud at times and for a while the theatre felt like a trap closing in on us. Deep breath. It’s not. The movie is good. Just focus on that.

Earlier in the day we drove my younger two sons to my in-laws for a sleepover. I have been doing a lot of the recent driving without much anxiety, but I’m still convinced I’m going to back over a child every time I leave the driveway. I’m going to get t-boned as I go through intersections. I’m going to get into a head-on collision on the highway. Deep breath. Wipe my hands on my pants. Pay attention. Go. We also stopped at a costco on our way home. I handled it like anyone else there.

I’m lucky that I don’t live where I work. When I do go out locally I’m not faced with many triggers, the exception being emergency vehicles and sirens, but those can happen anywhere. There is an apartment building (one of many) that I frequented at work, and one shift we were heading to this building for someone threatening suicide. Not uncommon there. The police were ahead of us by a minute and had made their way up to the apartment. When they knocked the patient jumped off of a seventeenth floor balcony. As we were getting out of the truck the screaming and crying began from the back of the building. The patients mother. We went back there and found him. He looked 18 or 19. He was all contorted, and the left side of his thorax was split open. Somehow everything was still inside. VSA. We updated and an ALS preceptor crew who weren’t far came quickly. The preceptor wanted to work him in the back of our truck, where he was ultimately pronounced. There was so much blood in the back. It seemed like an unreasonable amount to be honest. We had to drive the body to the coroners office downtown. That place has an unforgettable smell. When we were done weighing the body and transferring it over the attendant felt bad and actually came out and helped us clean most of the blood up. We still had to go back to the station and hose the truck out as well as clean the stripped stretcher. Whenever I ended up back at that building I would hear that screaming when I got out of the truck. Deep breath. I repeat, I’m lucky that I don’t live where I work.

I have crafted a fairly small trigger-free existence since going off work. I think I’m going to have to admit it’s not helping me anymore. Hiding from life only prevents living, not death. It doesn’t prevent the memories, nor does it honour them. It doesn’t make any new ones that are better either. Deep breath.